Mind Games

Still, since Riggs’s recent torments coincided with their arrival in Redbud Hollow, she kept her distance. Kept to her routine. Kept to the quiet.

On Saturday, she dipped chicken pieces in an egg-milk mixture, then shook piece by piece in the flour and herbs in a paper bag. Just like her grandmother taught her.

While the chicken browned and sizzled in hot oil, she started on the biscuit dough. The potato salad she’d made earlier blended its flavors in the refrigerator. She’d fry up some okra and serve her family a fine early summer meal.

With enough left over, she calculated, Rem could take some home for a midnight snack.

While she had the chicken keeping warm on a platter, the biscuits ready for the oven, she whisked up gravy in the skillet. They’d eat outside, she decided, as the day just called for it. She’d whistle Bunk home when she took out the plates to set the picnic table.

Even as she thought it, Bunk came charging in the front door.

A second later, Bray charged after him, with Ty scrambling behind.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He stopped short. “They got away from me.”

“That’s just fine. Did y’all have fun?”

“We played fetch. Daddy’s arm fell off. I drew this. For you.”

As Bray thrust a picture at her, Thea turned down the heat in the skillet and took it.

She decided he’d used every crayon in the pack to scribble circles and jagged lines and loops.

“For me? It’s just beautiful.” She couldn’t help but read him. He was so full of life, and pure cheerful energy. “And it’s Bunk!”

As Ty just blinked at her, she crouched. “And here you are, and your daddy. Is he tossing a red ball?”

“We got it from the store, for Bunk.”

“I know he appreciates it. I need to put this picture right up on my refrigerator. It’s the best art gallery going.”

“Daddy does, too. Can I see the chickens?”

“Bray, Ms. Fox is busy.”

“Not very busy.” Straightening up, Thea used refrigerator magnets to display the drawing. “Unless you’re in a hurry, I’m about finished up here.”

“Please!” The leg hug, the look. “See the chickens, please, Daddy.”

“For a minute.”

As Bray ran off, Bunk with him, Ty heard his mother’s voice.

You spoil him, Tyler.

Yeah, well, so what?

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Barging in this way. I hate when people barge in.”

“I think Bunk did the barging, and the door was open.” He looked so frazzled, she had to smile. “Can I get you something? I’ve got wine, beer, sweet tea.”

“No, really. We’ll only stay a minute.” He walked over to look out the open back doors, keeping an eye on Bray.

And looked a little disheveled with the frazzled, Thea thought. Like a man whose arm had fallen off playing fetch with a boy and a dog.

He’d bought a ball for her dog.

“I’m just going to finish up this gravy. Are you settling in?”